I told Natasha about the party during one of our shifts at the bookstore and of course, she was upset that I didn’t tell her sooner. I tried to explain to her that the party was not just a party, but it was a part of the project I was working on with Micah. I was excited to finally be using my camera after leaving it in Philly when I moved to NYC. Last weekend when Hudson stopped by, he handed me the camera, curious in why I was using it again all of a sudden.
“It’s for my art project,” I said, opening the case and taking out the camera. Holding it in my hands instantly took me back to the streets of Philly. I know that’s all that there is on this camera roll.
“Art project?” Hudson questioned. “Isn’t photography different than art?”
“It’s a form of art,” I corrected him, turning on the camera. “We wanted to do a project about capturing art in moments of time and shit…” Hudson nodded his head, not really understanding but didn’t want to show that he didn’t. He was supportive like that.
“Well, I think you still have film in that camera, but if you needed more,” He began to say before handing me a plastic shopping bag. “I picked up some more.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking into the bag of film.
…
“So what’s the theme for this secret party you were not going to tell me about?” Natasha asked, clearly being sarcastic. I side-eyed her and couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s a ‘Blast From the Past’ themed,” I answered, walking down the street. “We wanted to do a 2018 theme; the year that we were born.”
“So about your project partner,” Natasha began to ask. I knew exactly where this was going.
“What about him?” I looked over at Natasha before walking into the film store. I opened the front door and entered the store, looking around at the photos and cameras displayed on the walls. I was glad we finally got to the store before having to have this awkward conversation with Natasha. Saved by the film.
I walked to the guy sitting at the counter of the store, greeting him as I took my camera out of it’s bag.
“Hi,” I smiled, placing the camera on the counter. “Do you guys develop pictures from film still? I’m not sure if what’s on here is worth saving or not.” The guy looked at the camera as I popped the film out of it. He seemed more interested in the camera rather than the film.
“You got a good condition Canon on your hands,” he said, examining it. “Vintage.”
“Cheap,” I corrected as I laughed. I handed the film to the guy.
“I can get this developed for you in like 10 minutes if you want to wait around for it,” the guy said, analyzing the film in his hand. The fuck is this dude doing?
“I guess so,” I shrugged, taking my camera from the counter as the guy went to the back. I turned around toward Natasha.
“So back to what we were talking about,” she mentions with a grin on her face. “I’ve never seen you so passionate about working on a project; something tells me this is more than just a project.”
“Keep thinking that, Nat,” I rolled my eyes, walking around a circle in place. “Literally just a dumb art project. Micah is my friend though, so I guess I can’t slack if another person’s grade is also on the line.”
“I’m not buying that sad excuse of an answer,” Natasha crossed her arms along her chest. “Like, you’ve been hanging out with this dude more than your actual boyfriend; Prescott is still your boyfriend, right?”
“Nat, I’m not entertaining this,” I tried to dismiss the conversation before Natasha dragged it any further. “It is what it is and I’m just trying to pass a class-“
“By throwing a party?” Natasha questioned. “Is Prescott invited to your little art experimental party?”
“He’s not going to want to come to a party with a bunch of nobodies,” I joked, trying to ease the intensity of this conversation. “I also don’t need all of the attention on him when he walks in the room.”
“Mhm,” Natasha responded without saying anything verbal. The guy comes back with a pack of developed photos in his hands. God knows what kind of pictures are in that envelope.
“Rosie, right?” The guy said, walking up to the counter. How the fuck does he know my name?
“Yeah?” I questioned. The guys smiled as he looked at the envelope in his hands.
“Do you go to FIT by any chance?” he asked. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“With that tuition? Absolutely not,” I jokingly said. “Why?”
“Because these pictures are better than any other pictures a FIT kid came in here to develop,” he mentioned, placing the envelope down on the counter. “You should consider submitting these to the ‘Photog-art-phy’ exhibition at MoMA.”
I cocked up an eyebrow. “The what?”
“It’s a photo exhibition that typically the FIT students apply for to get their art displayed in the museum and get compensated while getting exposure,” the guy began to explain. “Anyone can apply, but it’s really geared toward college students.”
“That sounds cool, but if FIT kids are applying for this opportunity, I don’t stand a chance,” I said, grabbing the envelope of photos from the counter.
“I’ve developed tons of film for FIT students, and nothing I’ve seen compares to what I saw on your film,” the guy looked at me. I looked down at the envelope, nervous to open it to see the photos that came from the film. I don’t even remember half of the photos I took on this film; God knows who is captured in these photos and what time they were taken. What if they are just reminders of my life back in Philly? What if I look at these photos and miss the life I had living there?
“I don’t even remember these photos to be honest,” I said toward the envelope more than the guy at the counter. Natasha nudged me, causing me to look up at her.
“You should do it,” she said, pointing at the envelope. “You’d probably get paid more having your work in a museum than slaving away in a college bookstore.”
“Personally,” the guy began to say. “I think you have a good chance of winning.”
“It doesn’t hurt to try,” I finally said to the guy. The guy went underneath the counter and pulled out a form; placing it on top in front of me.
“The deadline is next week,” he mentioned. “Pick your photos, fill this out, and drop it off at MoMA.” I took the form and folded it in half to put in my bag.
“I’ll be sure to do so,” I said, looking at Natalia. “Thank you again.”
“Anything for actual talented youth,” he responded. I smiled and exited the film store with the envelope still in my hands. Natasha was the first to say something once we got out.
“Let’s see the photos,” shea said, trying to grab the envelope from my hand. I quickly yanked it away.
“I’ll see them when I get back home,” I said.
“Why? We can pick the photos out now and fill the application out,” Natasha argued, looking confused.
“I just rather do it when I’m home,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“You’re acting like it’s pornography,” Natasha emphasized.
“Nat, these are photos that I have absolutely no idea what they are,” I said, annoyed at this point. “These aren’t just your typical ‘vacation at the Bahamas’ type of shit. For fuck’s sake these photos could simply just be of me and my bum-ass ex-boyfriend that I don’t want to have to relive standing here on this street.”
“Whatever, Rosie,” Natasha said just to shut me up. “Forget about the pictures; what time is the party this weekend?”
“8,” I simply answered, feeling a type of way. Of course Nat only cares about coming to this fucking party and nothing else.
“Cool, I’ll see you this weekend then,” Natasha replied, walking away in the other direction. I rolled my eyes walking in the opposite direction. I don’t walk that far as something immediately caught my eye. The corner store had their usual display of newspapers and magazines; blowing in the wind as normal since no one actually buys them. One magazine flapping in the air caught my attention and I immediately felt the sheer panic seep into my bones.
Tired of limelight partners? Kalia Holder’s ex-boyfriend hanging out with Prescott Jones’ girlfriend.
“Fuck,” I simply said, running into the corner store.
Letters From Liz. 